~Hear Me Cry~

By: Aerys Krystie.

Anger

Jackson stood at the window that Derek had installed a week ago. The pack hadn't been back, deciding to let Derek handle his out of control betas. Jackson stared at the pavement. His mind was whirling, something it hadn't done in months. There were questions flying around and he wanted them gone. He actually wanted something.

Yet, even though he knew that was good, in Derek's eyes, he didn't know where it came from. He'd had questions before and he was never bothered by them. He could simply ignore them and they would vanish. Not anymore. They were flying around his mind, like someone had thrown a deck of cards in a tornado. They whipped by, stopping long enough to bring up a new problem.

His heart thudded in his chest, despite him trying to remain calm. It had gotten worse the last two days. After the pack released him, Jackson had shut down the link. He didn't want Derek knowing what he was thinking or feeling and had returned to the window, ignoring the way everyone stared at him.

Being told that he shouldn't exist wasn't anything new. Jackson had thought that several times during his life. He just never knew how true it was. He couldn't focus on himself, anyway. The alpha was worried about the new pack in the town and Jackson couldn't be another problem for him. They needed to focus on cleansing their town, so things could return to normal.

How? How do we cleanse the town? Jackson closed his eyes, trying to will away the questions. He knew the best way to cleanse the town, but Derek didn't want him doing that. He was already a murderer, what difference would it make? Derek was right. He would find some way to make a bigger mess and then that would be another thing for him to clean up.

Opening his eyes, Jackson stared out the window. He relaxed his hands, unaware of when they became fists. Grabbing the pocketknife he lifted from Stiles, Jackson stabbed it through his hand. He let out a shaky breath when he felt no pain. He removed the knife and the wound healed over. While he couldn't feel physical pain, he wondered about the others Stiles had mentioned.

Emotional and psychological pain. Jackson assumed he was suffering from those, as his body felt none of the pain. Why did Derek's words hurt him so much? Was it because they were the truth, or because Derek wouldn't give him a chance to prove he wasn't the same fucked up kid? Jackson didn't know the answer to any of them. All he knew was that Derek's words meant a lot to him.

You don't exist, he told himself and he turned around, sliding down to the floor. Which was it? Was he searching for his place in the world, or did he not exist? For someone that didn't exist, he certainly felt like he did. The emotions were new to him. He didn't know what they were, only that they made things complicated. He wanted to cry, shout, scream and kill something.

Raising his eyes, Jackson stared at the new door fitted only yesterday. Lifting his hands, Jackson watched as they trembled. He had no idea what it was, but there was a bubbling heat in his stomach that was raising steadily. He knew that was anger, as that's what Stiles called it. Stiles. He had answers.

Derek sighed as he rolled over and Jackson glanced at the door, which was open. Isaac had asked to spend the night with his alpha, wanting comfort after learning about Jackson. Derek had extended that invitation to Jackson, who simply stared at him. He was strong enough, now. He didn't want or need comfort from anyone. Nothing bothered him, anymore.

So, why did his chest ache and his throat dry up? Why was he on the floor, trembling, thinking about the hug from a week ago? Why did he want that? Why did he want to stand in Derek's room and look at him?

Turning his eyes from the doorway, Jackson looked at his hands again. He saw Stiles' pocketknife and decided it was time to return it. He got to his feet, just as a door at the end opened. Peter was walking out, getting ready to start the day. As he rounded into the kitchen, Jackson was at the door, opening it. He was gone before Peter knew what he had seen.

Jackson knew he was fast, but he couldn't be that fast. He didn't question it. There was nothing to question. For the moment, it served his purpose. He ran down the stairs and out of the building, across the road and was in the center of town within seconds. He found the fastest route to Stiles' house and took it, arriving as quickly as he left the loft. He wondered if that was part of not existing.

The front door was locked, but Jackson didn't notice it. The deadbolt gave way to his strength and he walked upstairs, into Stiles' bedroom. The human wasn't in there and seemed apparent he hadn't been there for at least the night. The father was still asleep and Jackson glanced at the clock beside Stiles' bed. Six thirty-two in the morning. He had somewhere to hide, as Stiles would likely go to school.

Sitting in the corner behind the door, Jackson stared into the room. He would prefer to stand, but he didn't feel like doing that. That wasn't right. He never felt the need to stand or sit. He just stood, as he could jump into action quicker that way, should something threaten the alpha.

Closing his eyes, Jackson exhaled. He was finally starting to feel normal again. He opened his eyes and stared into the room, waiting for Stiles to return.

Around midday, Jackson heard and felt Derek calling to him. Without a scent to track, all Derek could do was call for him. He had left his cell phone behind in his parents' house, figuring he would never need it again. The sheriff had woken an hour after he arrived, but had gone out the backdoor to his car. For the moment, he was safe. No one knew where he was and no one could force him to feel.

The hours melted away. Every hour, Derek would call for him and Jackson could feel the tug of the alpha. Go to him, his mind would whisper for some reason. He could feel Derek trying to seek him out via their link, but he kept it locked. He wasn't having anyone projecting their emotions and feelings onto him.

Night fell and Jackson had heard Derek running past the house, calling out to him. Again, that tug of the alpha happened and it was even stronger with Derek just outside. It was around eleven when Stiles finally came home, two hours after his father. He had asked his dad if he had seen Jackson.

"Jackson's missing? I thought he was living with Derek. That's what David told me, anyway. Have you checked in with him?"

"Derek was the one that told me he was missing. He thought Jackson might've gone to school, but I didn't see him there. Scott checked, as well. We don't know where he is." Stiles was sad.

"Can't they…smell him?"

Stiles sighed. "No, they can't. I forgot to tell you, Jackson doesn't have a scent they can track. If he wants to disappear, he can."

The sheriff sat up. "And what if he does want to disappear?"

"We can't let that happen, Dad. Derek said that Jackson's been more despondent than usual for the last week. He's going through something really, really bad."

There was a short silence, before the sheriff whispered, "Kanima bad?"

"Somehow, this feels worse, even though there isn't a body count. But there could be, if we don't find him." Stiles groaned. "I'm going to change and help search the woods."

Jackson stood as Stiles ran up the stairs. The light flipped on and Jackson stepped out from behind the door. "Stiles," he said.

Stiles shouted and spun around, holding the shirt he had removed as though it was a bat. He frowned, staring at the person behind him. "Jackson? What are you doing in my bedroom?"

"I came to return this," Jackson said and held up the pocketknife. Stiles' frown deepened and he took it.

"Derek is sick with worry, Jackson," Stiles said, pulling on his shirt and closing the door. "What are you doing here?"

"I want answers."

Stiles' eyebrows went up. "You…want answers? You haven't wanted anything in months."

"That's my point. I don't want to want answers, but I want them. I want to know what's happening to me." Jackson's hands became fists as he paced around the bed. "I don't know what this is."

"What?"

"This…this…feeling." Jackson stopped in front of Stiles and stared down at him. "I don't like it and I want it gone. I don't want to feel. I'm useless to the alpha if I feel."

"Okay, all right." Stiles grabbed Jackson's wrist and pulled him to the bed, forcing him to sit. "Tell me what it feels like."

Jackson stared at Stiles. "It's just questions. There's hundreds of questions rushing around my head and I can't answer any of them. I want them gone."

Stiles stared at Jackson with hard eyes. "Sounds like you're stressed," he finally said with a shrug. "That's part of being human. You've always got questions that don't make sense, but you try to answer them, even if you don't want that answer."

Stress. Jackson looked down at his hands, trying to understand what that was. Why would anyone want to feel that? He'd had it for a week and he wanted it gone. Why would those questions matter, if he couldn't answer them? Was that how people felt, all the time?

"Is that why you ran away from the loft?" Jackson nodded and closed his eyes when Stiles placed an arm around his shoulders. "What you're feeling right now, that's what Derek's feeling."

Jackson opened his eyes and stared at Stiles. "Why's he feeling it? I've shut down our link."

Stiles laughed and shook his head. "Derek has more stress than just you. He's worried about you, the pack that's here and a bunch of other stuff. Right now, he's stressed because you just ran away. You didn't tell anyone where you were going."

"I didn't know I had to."

"Well, you have to tell someone when you leave. They can't track you by scent, so they won't know if you're okay. And you shut down your link to Derek, so he can't feel if you're still alive. I know, I know. You can't die, but that doesn't stop him from being scared that he's going to find your body." Stiles gave a slight smile.

Jackson tilted his head and frowned. "What does it matter if he finds my body?"

Stiles sighed quietly and dropped his arm. "You're part of his pack, even if you don't feel like you are. He cares about everyone in his pack and doesn't want to find any of their bodies. But you were his first bite, so I think he cares a little more about you, especially since you've had problems in the past."

They sat in silence for a while. Jackson frowned, thinking on Stiles' words. He had used one, several times. 'Care.' Deaton had asked if he cared about Derek, but he didn't know what it meant. He still wasn't sure if he knew what it meant, but when used in that context, it made Jackson feel bad about himself. He felt as though he had done something wrong.

"Did you need help with anything else?" Stiles asked quietly and Jackson blinked at him.

"Yes. I had this strange feeling this morning, before I left. I can't even begin to explain it. I felt angry and then I felt like doing that crying thing. And then I wanted to destroy or kill something."

Stiles blinked and inched away from Jackson. "Okay… What were you thinking about when that happened?"

"Isaac sharing a bed with Derek." Jackson's hands became fists again, but he forced them to relax.

Stiles stared at Jackson and then laughed. "Holy shit," he said, a grin spreading across his face. "You're jealous."

Jackson frowned and tilted his head. "I'm what?"

"Jealous," Stiles repeated, the grin still in place. "Which part of Isaac sharing a bed with Derek made you feel that?"

"All of it."

"No, was it the part that Isaac was in bed with Derek or that Derek was in bed with Isaac?"

Jackson's frown deepened, trying desperately to understand what Stiles was saying. "That's the same thing."

"No, it is—All right, let's try it this way. Who was that feeling directed towards?" Stiles groaned as Jackson stared at him blankly. "Were you upset at Isaac being in Derek's bed?"

"Yes."

Stiles grinned. "All right," he said, nodding his head, which slowed. The smile fell from his face. "That doesn't get me anywhere. I still don't know which one you were jealous of." He sighed and rubbed his temples.

Jackson tilted his head, wondering if he had caused physical pain to Stiles with his questions. He had never meant to do that, but he didn't know who else to turn to. Stiles seemed the only one that wanted to help him, aside from Derek, who just left him alone once he felt something.

"Okay," Stiles said as he stood. "I propose this scenario to you." Jackson frowned as there was a slight wave of disgust coming from Stiles. "I'm in Derek's bed."

"Okay."

"No, not 'okay.'" Stiles deepened his voice, trying to mimic Jackson's. "What do you feel, seeing me in Derek's bed?"

Jackson frowned, staring at Stiles. His eyes flickered around the room, not seeing Derek's bed anywhere. He didn't understand the question. Stiles groaned again.

"Close your eyes." Jackson did as he was told. "You're in the loft, standing by your window." Jackson frowned as he saw that. "You look at Derek's room and you see me in his bed."

Jackson snarled and opened his eyes, glaring at Stiles. It took a few seconds to realize he wasn't in the loft and that his claws were digging in his thighs. He retracted them and let the tension dissolve from his shoulders. He looked up and Stiles smiled.

"You're jealous of Isaac, because he was in Derek's bed. Something I think you want for yourself."

Jackson frowned, looking at the holes in his jeans. He could see the scars of his claws, wondering how his wolf had come out. Did he feel it that badly, that he would potentially attack someone he had to protect?

"It's all right, Jackson. Jealousy brings out the wolf in all of us." Stiles placed a hand on Jackson's shoulder. "I'm gonna take you back to the loft."

"Okay."

"Going to Derek's loft, Dad," Stiles said as he and Jackson went downstairs. The sheriff sat up, staring at Jackson. "He was in my bedroom. Guess he wins the hide-and-seek championship, huh?"

In Stiles' jeep, Jackson stared ahead. He needed to be emotionless for the torrent of hell he was going to feel from Derek. He had thought about keeping his side of the link shut down, but Stiles seemed to think it was important for him to open it.

Stiles pulled out and dialed Derek on his phone. "I found him," he said and Jackson heard a rush of air, deaf to Stiles' ears. "He was in my bedroom."

"What the hell was he doing there?"

"He had questions about what he was feeling," Stiles explained as they drove down the street. He glanced at Jackson, who looked back at him. Stiles raised his eyebrows and Jackson frowned. Stiles rolled his eyes. "He left because he felt jealous."

"Out," Derek snapped at the others as there was laughter. "He felt jealousy?"

"Oh, big time," Stiles said with a grin. "Pretty sure he was about to kill me because of a made-up scenario."

"I don't care about that. What caused the jealousy?"

Stiles glanced at Jackson, the grin still in place. "Isaac," he said vaguely. He shuddered as Derek growled.

"He's never been jealous of Isaac before."

"I agree," Stiles said with a lilt still in his voice. "But this is the first time he's seen Isaac share your bed." There was a long silence, to the point that Stiles made sure no one had hung up. "Everything okay over there, Mister Wolf?"

"Just get him home." Derek hung up.

"Yeah, bye to you, too! I'll see you in a few minutes," Stiles yelled at his phone, shaking his head. "Ass." He sighed and glanced at Jackson. "Have you opened your link to him?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Every time I do, I feel. I don't like feeling."

Stiles sighed as he stopped at a red light. "Jackson, you're feeling on your own, now. Derek was asleep when you felt the jealousy. You felt that shock and pain last week, when Peter told you that you…" He trailed off and shook his head.

Jackson stared out the windshield, feeling Derek on the other side of the link. He was waiting for Jackson to open it and he didn't want to. There it was again. There was a want. He didn't want to feel jealous of people in Derek's bed. He didn't want to feel anything. He didn't want Derek in his head, spreading the emotions and feelings. All he wanted was to forget he ever knew what they felt like.

"Do it," Stiles ordered and Jackson closed his eyes, opening the highway to Derek.

Wincing, Jackson placed a hand over his neck as it practically buzzed, shooting up and down his spine. He could feel the anger, fear, pain, worry that Derek was. But there was something else. Something that was soothing all of it and it wasn't warmth or comfort. It was something he hadn't felt from Derek before.

Glancing at Jackson, Stiles smiled sympathetically. "You kinda deserve that for shutting it down for so long."

"Okay."

Stiles slapped Jackson's knee. "Stop that. If we say something, don't just say, 'okay,' like you don't feel it."

"Okay." Stiles slapped him again. "Why do you keep touching my knee?"

"I'm actually hitting you…" Stiles rolled his eyes. "I'm an idiot. Do you feel that?"

"No."

"Look out your window," Stiles said and Jackson turned his head, staring out the passenger window. "Feel that?"

"What?" He frowned, trying to feel something.

"Look," Stiles said, holding a chunk of Jackson's hair. "I think we need to do some tests, without Derek knowing. Are you all right with that?"

Jackson frowned, trying to think of an answer. Derek was the alpha. He didn't want Jackson doing tests on himself, but he still did it, just to make sure he was useful. If Derek found out about it, he would blame Stiles. He may even threaten Stiles, which couldn't happen. He couldn't stand up to the alpha… Could he?

"Okay."

Stiles sighed and shook his head. "Good enough, I guess."

Derek stood at the window, looking down to the street. He saw Stiles pull up and Jackson slip out. Stiles said his goodbyes and Jackson walked into the building. Turning from the window, Derek stared at the door. He had sent the pack off to the woods. He needed time alone with Jackson to understand what was happening.

Spending an entire day, trying to search for a scent that didn't exist, hadn't been fun. He could have been looking into the pack, trying to discover why they were really in town. Instead, he had spent the day trying to find someone who couldn't be found and didn't want to be found.

Derek would never admit it, but fear had gripped his heart when he couldn't feel Jackson. Not knowing where he was or who he was with… Derek didn't want to think about it again. Scenarios had played through his mind for the last eighteen hours. Going through the woods and finding Jackson's body there. Finding him in a dumpster. Having the pack dump him at the door to the loft.

He had woken to Peter crying out in surprise. Dislodging Isaac's long limbs from him, he went into the living space. Jackson wasn't at his window and that's when Peter said that Jackson had left. He snapped his fingers, saying Jackson was gone like that.

However, as Jackson trudged up the stairs, Derek wondered if his uncle had seen Jackson move that fast. He had tried calling his cell phone, only to discover it was turned off. He let Jackson have a few hours, not wanting to crowd him, especially after what happened the previous week. He couldn't believe Jackson could become more despondent, but he had found a way. He barely even muttered an 'Okay,' deciding that nodding or shaking his head was good enough.

Jackson was the door. There was an unneeded deep breath, before he opened the door and entered the loft. Derek stared at him and he stared right back. Stiles had said that he felt jealousy, but Jackson didn't smell like it. There was no emotion in him, which reminded Derek too much of the old Jackson. Trying to use something else to hide his true emotions, even around werewolves.

"Where were you for the entire day?"

"In Stiles' bedroom."

"Why?" Jackson frowned and tilted his head. Derek felt his anger spike. "Don't give me that, Jackson. Tell me why you were in his bedroom."

"I wanted answers."

Derek felt some of the anger disappear. That had to be a good sign. Jackson never wanted answers before and it fell to Derek to find someone who knew something. Jackson actually seeking answers on his own was good, regardless of how he went about it. Still, Derek didn't want Jackson thinking he could do whatever he wanted.

"And what questions did you have that meant you couldn't come to me?" Derek asked. "Hmm? What could Stilinski offer you that I couldn't?"

Jackson's heart started beating and the life returned to his eyes. "Less anger for one thing!" he shouted and a glare settled on his face.

"Don't you yell at me, pup," Derek snapped and narrowed his eyes. Jackson stood his ground. That was the Jackson he missed: the defiant little bastard. He squashed down his anger and Jackson relaxed again. He really should figure out how his emotions keep spilling over to him. "Did he give you the answers you wanted?"

"Yes."

"And you couldn't think to tell Peter that you were going out? You didn't think to tell someone where you were going?"

"I didn't know I had to!" Jackson's trembling hands became fists as he glared at Derek. "You forget that there's a lot I don't know, anymore. Simple things that seem obvious to you, aren't to me. I haven't been allowed to leave this shithole in weeks!"

Derek's eyes widened for a moment, before he snarled. "Please, tell me how you really feel about your home!"

Jackson stepped closer and the smell of the sadness and anger battling within him became stronger. "I'm only here because I didn't realize my mother was coming into the kitchen! If I had just taken the knives upstairs, I wouldn't be here, dealing with your bullshit."

Derek advanced on Jackson, surprised that he stayed where he was. He would never admit aloud that he missed arguing with Jackson. He missed the way Jackson would try to rile him up, all the taunts and jabs. Those first few days were the only reason Derek was helping him.

"Just remember that I could've turned you out, Jackson. The moment you lost your scent, I could've kicked you out of the pack. But I didn't! Now, I have to deal with your non-existent ass acting like a child!"

Derek's eyes widened when he realized what he said. Jackson grew still before him, eyes staring at his throat. His emotions constantly battled, sorrow-anger-sorrow-rage-sorrow. It continued for a short while, until Derek felt a cold rage come through the link.

Jackson slowly raised his eyes. "Then do it," he said quietly, the blue eyes sparkling. "Cast me from the pack you borne me to! I'll be one less problem for you to worry about."

"Jesus Christ, Jackson," Derek said as he straightened. "You're not a problem. No one in my pack is ever a 'problem.'"

"Then stop treating me like one," Jackson said, his voice eerily calm. "Don't freak out because I left." He broke the leg off the coffee table and stabbed it into his chest. "In case you forgot, I can't fucking die!"

Derek flinched and gritted his teeth at that show of weakness. He closed his eyes, letting the alpha come out. He ripped the leg from Jackson's chest and wrapped a hand around his throat, needing more effort than he thought to pin Jackson to the door.

Jackson glared back at him, his hand around Derek's throat. "Unlike you, I don't need to breathe."

Derek's eyes became red and Jackson removed his hand, letting the air back into Derek's lungs. He couldn't believe how strong that grip was. "I am your alpha," he stated, his claws digging into the pale flesh of Jackson's throat.

Jackson's eyes sparkled blue and he shoved Derek away. Derek groaned as his back met the wall he'd just replaced. He looked across the room, his eyes wide. Jackson couldn't be that strong. He was a beta and he was barely that. How could he throw his alpha across the room, like he was a pair of jeans?

The cuts from his claws on Jackson's throat healed and scarred. "You are not my alpha," he said.

Derek glared at him, trying to cover the pain he felt. Hearing Jackson Whittemore, of all people, say he wasn't his alpha stung. The guy that desperately needed an alpha in his life was denying him. That cut a lot deeper than he wanted it to, but he knew Jackson felt it. The blue died from his eyes, as did the cold rage that had gripped him as he stared at Derek.

"I didn't…I didn't mean that."

He was completely sincere. Derek stood and approached Jackson slowly, not wanting to frighten him. That was a lesson for another day. "I know," he said. "That's what rage does, though. If you let it run unchecked, you say things just to hurt others. Like what I said about you being non-existent. I didn't mean that."

Jackson trembled as he stood before Derek, a resounding sadness taking over him. He hung his head and Derek placed a hand on Jackson's shoulder, grateful he couldn't see those scars on his throat. It was just one more thing on his list of atonements for Jackson.

Derek gave the shoulder a squeeze and turned from Jackson, looking at the busted coffee table. "Jackson," he said and looked over his shoulder.

"Yes?"

"Stop breaking my shit."

"Okay."

Derek watched as Jackson went back to the window, not bothering to shower. He shook his head, knowing he had to discuss the jealousy thing, as well. With a sigh, Derek stood beside Jackson and looked out the window. He knew he should focus on the pack, but he didn't need Jackson's jealousy potentially harming a member of his own pack.

"Why are you jealous of Isaac?"

"I'm not."

"Don't start lying now," Derek warned.

Jackson frowned and looked at Derek. "I'm not jealous of Isaac."

"Unless he's in my bed?"

"Yes."

Derek wouldn't lie, he did enjoy the honesty. He did prefer Jackson trying to lie, but the honesty was a nice change. For once. He placed a hand on Jackson's back, not feeling as shift in his position. He idly stroked his neck, enjoying the silky skin. He wanted to ask questions, but somehow found himself scared of the answers he'd get from honest Jackson.

"Did you want to join me in my bed?"

"Yes."

Even though the word was said without emotion, Derek fought to keep his heartrate normal. He didn't need Jackson hearing it and then asking his own questions. It did send a spark of excitement through him, which he quickly shoved down, especially as Jackson's head turned to him. He frowned, clearly trying to understand what he just felt and what it meant.

Keeping his eyes steady, Derek continued to stare out the window. Jackson must have thought he wasn't going to get any answers and straightened his head. Derek lowered his eyes, glancing over his shoulder at the coffee table. Peter's list was still on it.

"Will you join me in my bed?"

"No."

Derek closed his eyes. He was almost certain that was Jackson's favorite word. Inhaling deeply, he opened his eyes and ignored the painful thumping in his chest. He was old enough to handle rejection and he was mature enough not to demand a reason. So he liked to believe.

"Why not?"

Jackson turned his head and frowned at Derek. "I don't sleep."

End Chapter.

Thanks for reading. Hope y'all enjoyed it.

Until the next one.

Peace.
Auska.